An Offer You Can't Refuse
by HeadofLies
Summary: Felicity Page is an ordinary fan, just like us. But, still suffering Ten Withdrawal, when the Trickster comes and gives her the chance to undo RTD's work and create an AU of her own, will she make an agreement, just to save her Doctor's life...?
1. Introduction: A world of grief

It is Christmas 2010, New Years Day evening to be precise. Picture a living room, dimly lit from little multicoloured fairy lights donning the tree in the corner, and the warm, cosy air filled with the fragrance of Glade cinnamon-scented candles. And, curled up on the sofa with a half-eaten mince pie and box of Kleenex well at hand, surrounded by a sea of numerous used tissues scattered around in a kind of white, crumpled, tear-and-snot-filled semi-circle, is a young woman. Her name is Felicity Page, and she is not crying. Definitely not crying, for as she would hasten to tell you she is too old to cry, especially over a silly children's television programme such as Doctor Who. Sobbing, perhaps, but only in the quiet, dark, private sanctuary of her own home, carefully away from the teasing eyes of her family and the sniggering grins of her colleague and irritatingly annoying best friend George.

_Did you hear! She cried watching the tenth Doctor regenerate!_

Grrrrrr…

Of course she wasn't _ashamed_. No. Of course not. It had just been rather an emotional moment, that was all. And, besides, wasn't it sad? Wasn't it sad that her favourite character from, yes, okay, a much-loved show of hers had completely changed into a brand new man before her eyes – _completely_ uncaring of her persistent denials for the past month every time David Tennant appeared on TV? A stranger she no longer knew had sauntered away, madly declaring he had legs and suddenly crying out Geronimo, still dressed in _her_ Doctor's suit and running about _her_ Doctor's TARDIS.

I don't want to go, her Doctor had said.

Damn right she didn't want him to go.

And Felicity wasn't alone. She hadn't been the only one of us. Almost a whole planet (or at least a good three quarts) had grieved for the tenth Doctor's passing that night, as across the void, in another world not totally unlike our own, or at least the one RTD attempted to portray every Saturday night on our television screens, the real-life tenth Doctor did die. Regenerate, should I say. Eleven is in that world now, hanging for dear life onto the edge of the TARDIS' doorway, god only knows having how he got there, as his crashing, burning ship plummets down to Earth. Somewhere below is little Amelia Pond, praying to Santa of all people – the Tenth Doctor all but forgotten.

The all-but is important.

This is because a whole planet (or a good three quarts) grieving is rather a noticeable thing. In his domain of white, the Trickster sat up and grinned…and listened. Listened to a hundred or more English fan girls and a thousand or more even louder American fan girls…all demanding the Tenth Doctor's return.

A slight smile spread across the Trickster's thin lips like mould. His laugh echoed around the lost domain, and Time shook as the Trickster followed the sounds of the fans, more than willing to please…


	2. Chapter 1: The Trickster

Felicity Sarah Page flopped down onto the couch in the staffroom and began glugging down her coffee with dangerous enthusiasm.

"Hey, steady on Fliss!" George laughed, coming to sit opposite her. "9B that bad, huh?"

"Don't even ask," she sighed. "And did _you_ hear that Jody's organised me a leaver's do? Debbie's just told me!"

George grinned mischievously, "Ah, well, I might have pushed her in the right direction, just a tad…"

"Oh George! I might have known it'd be you behind all this!" Felicity set down her polystyrene cup and gave him a 100 watt sapphire glare. "I _told_ you–"

"Yeah, and _I_ didn't listen." He sipped his own coffee and shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is anyway. You deserve a decent send-off." He peered at her over the rim of the cup, "You work _far_ too hard."

"So? So do you." Felicity sat back and folded her arms. "I take it you had a good Christmas then?"

"Joanna and I spilt up actually."

"What?" Felicity sat up sharply at that, eyes wide. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

"No worries."

"No, I'm serious. When did this happen?"

George leant forward and flicked through his lesson planner, avoiding her gaze. "Couple of days ago…"

Felicity resumed her glare. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, George? George!"

"Because it doesn't matter," he breezed, "It's not important."

"Oh, and my silly little leaver's do is?" she retorted. George could be so…_infuriating_. "You're as bad as the kids sometimes, you know that?"

"Yep," he smirked. He clicked off his pen and looked back up at her. "Look, I just didn't want to mention it. You know how gossip spreads round here…The topic of conversation next week should be all about you leaving, not my apocalypse of a love life…"

"Was it that bad?" Felicity asked, sensitively.

"Worse," George grimaced. Shaking his head, as if by doing that he could shake away the memories, he sat back and flashed her a grin. "Saw anything good on telly over the holidays…?" he enquired, suddenly a picture of innocence.

Felicity shot him another, only slightly more playful glare. "Don't change the subject," she muttered. "I know where this is going."

"Oh do you, do you?" he grinned, "Really?"

"I know very well what you're getting at! And y_es_, I watched Doctor Who."

"Did you see him go?"

"Yes," she admitted, sulkily.

"And did you cry?"

"No!"

"Really?"

"No!"

"Not even a little bit?"

"_No_! Not even at all!"

George smirked. "I find that very hard to believe," he teased, raising a knowing brow.

"I didn't!" Felicity continued to insist.

"Oh, I'm only messing with you Fliss," he smiled, "Besides, I had a word with Emily. She says you did."

Felicity blinked. "You spoke to my _sister_?"

George chuckled, and tapped his nose conspiratorially. "You completely underestimate the power of my contacts, Miss Page."

"I'll give you Miss Page in a minute–" she grinned, reaching across and making a faux swipe for his coffee. In his haste to pull back his arm, the coffee lapped round the edges of the cup, dribbling down his tie and splashing a massive wet patch right onto the crotch area of his suit trousers.

George cursed and looked up, but Felicity was already making a laughing retreat for the door.

"You just wait 'til lunch, Felicity!" he called after her, and hobbled over to the sink to mop up his lap, completely failing to notice the tall shadowy figure stood in the window behind him…

Still laughing, Felicity headed down the corridor back to her classroom. Opening the door…her hand froze round the handle – in the glass of the door she caught the dark reflection of the figure waiting outside. _Follow me to work now, does he? _she thought irritably_ Stalk me here, does he? Who does he think he is?_

Felicity whirled back, turned, marched down the corridor and stormed out the door into the courtyard, where–

Everyone was gone. All the kids had just…disappeared. Felicity blinked in surprise, her wide eyes scanning the empty field and attempting to take in the all-round desertedness in front of her, failing completely to harbour any form of teenage life. Everything: from the tennis courts to bike sheds, the footie pitch to…to everything, everywhere was devoid of student.

Utterly wrong-footed, her brow knitted into a frown of 100% confusion, Felicity turned back to the school– which too had vanished.

Felicity gulped, as looking down the concrete and grass seemed to melt away under her boots to be replaced with…nothing. Just…whiteness. A misty, not-sure-if-its-really-even-quite-there sort of cloud. And so did the sky. And so did the backdrop of houses and spar shop and street. Everything was taken over by white, like a thick, woolly wall of snow had covered the world, wrapping her in a blanket of fog. Trapping her more like. It was all around her, everywhere she turned. It was suffocating. It was empty. It was making her eyes water. She wasn't even sure it was real.

And then it clicked.

Trying to ignore the swelling fear and inevitable panic rising and twisting her stomach into pretzels, Felicity licked her dry lips, swallowed, blocked out the pounding heartbeat in her ears and, uncaring of how stupid she knew she must look right now, summoned all her inner-strength and Sarah-Jane, and cried out one word and one word only.

It was a word to topple mountains, summon Gods and make school children run and hide.

"Trick-STER!"

Felicity glared ahead, into the empty space. Smoky black tendrils suddenly rose and swirled, writhing and pressing themselves into the white like black snakes. The darkness solidified, and the Trickster appeared. He bowed, flashing her a pointed smile.

"You called, Miss Page?"

Felicity sucked in a breath, narrowing her eyes. "I have a bone to pick with you."

The Trickster nodded, the pallid, sunken skin where his eyes should be staring her down, daring her to challenge him. "Go on?"

Felicity placed her hands on her hips, such as they were. "I take it we're in Limbo?"

"Correct."

She glanced back. "But the school, George…?"

"It is just you and me."

Felicity nodded. At least that was something.

"Why did you bring me here?" she demanded. "And why did you follow me? To the _school_ of all places?"

"Yesterday you were sure I was merely an hallucination," the Trickster remarked.

Felicity looked him up and down. "Yeah, well, I'm still not convinced."

"If you're still fishing for an agreement I'm sorry to disappoint you," she added, sticking out her chin. "I told you before, I'm not making any deals with you. I ain't agreeing. I won't even agree to disagree. You're not tricking me, you hear me! I know you! I've _seen_ you!"

"You're world amuses me," the Trickster grinned. "But you humans are all the same. Even when you are handed the knowledge, you are still too stupid to use it. Realise its potential…"

Felicity looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You stupid apes with your stupid little lives. You have all that delicious knowledge…"

"And knowledge is power, yes?"

The Trickster tilted his head at her. "Indeed. With such information your world possesses I could ruin these worlds a million times over. Turn your world over to chaos, oblivion–"

"But you can't." Felicity ventured a step forwards, trying not to think about exactly how substantial the fog was she was standing on. "You said so before, you can't manifest in my world, you said. Having to resort to stalking school teachers, beg me to do you bidding. You're powerless!" Felicity laughed. "Just a silly CBBC character for children. A joke baddie!"

"But, as you say, a baddie none the less." The Trickster raised an arm. "You know what I want you to do."

"And I told you before, it doesn't make sense." Felicity licked her lips again. "Why would you want me to stop him regenerating? I don't understand. What's in it for you? Surely you'd want to be the one to–"

"Killing is never my intention. Just chaos."

Felicity waved a hand. "Yeah, fine, whatever. But to _save_ his _life_? Why could you possibly want me to do that? Tell me!"

"It is necessary."

Felicity's curiosity pricked an ear. "Necessary for what?"

"Why?" the Trickster rasped, "do you question me? Could it be you do not _want_ to save your precious Doctor's live?"

She shook her head. "Of course I do. But I know you. I know what your like. You don't do anything without getting something out of it yourself." Felicity sighed. "Usually the end of the world," she muttered under her breath.

"You know nothing of me."

"I know you can't do anything without me," she retorted. "You need me. You need my agreement!"

"I need nothing from you." Suddenly the Trickster stepped forward. He didn't so much tower as _loom_. And in this endless world of white, Felicity suddenly felt he was taking up a lot more space than he should. "Do not think you are irreplaceable," he spat, "There are countless out there, mindless, blinkered creatures, absorbed in their tiny worlds of food and fansites. They would give anything to meet me, save their hero, walk in the world they have watched, fantasised. Live it in the flesh. How many would envy the chance I am offering you?"

"Tempting me, you mean. Dangling the carrot." Felicity bit her lip though. "Why did you choose me then. Out of all of the millions of fans out there, why me?"

The Trickster shrugged its skeletal black-cloaked shoulders. "You were not chosen for any reason other than I randomly selected a mortal weak and open-minded enough to enter. You are selfish and cowardly," he leered, "And you _will_ agree."

Felicity felt the corners of her eyes water, her cheeks hot and wet. "That as may me," she whispered, "But what makes you think I will agree?"

The Trickster waved a black-gloved hand airily around. "You wish to remain here? A much longer detention than any of your students would have to face…"

"Blackmail?" she snapped, "is that the best you can do?"

The Trickster took another step forward, and looked fascinatedly down at her, like he was examining a rare type of beetle. "Why cry? You want to save him, don't you? Save your Doctor? Be the Mary-Sue, go and save the day? Be the heroine, Felicity Page? Meet Captain Jack and Donna and Martha and Rose." The Trickster paused, then added with a slight but unmissed sneer, "And Sarah-Jane Smith?"

Felicity wiped at her cheeks and glared defiantly though her tears into the black hood, into the spaces were his eyes should be. "I won't make the same mistakes that she did."

"Oh, you will," he smiled, showing a mouth full of razor-sharp, pointy teeth. But, somehow, the smile didn't seem unkind. "But he will forgive you. That's what the Doctor does so well. And it won't be your world you are destroying, remember."

"Oh," Felicity said, "So that's alright then. You had me worried for a minute there."

The Trickster grinned, and waved a hand. Felicity blinked, and the white dissolved into colour…


	3. Chapter 2: Back to school

The first thing Felicity felt when she woke up was that she had chronic pins-and-needles in both her legs. Whether his was the normal sensation you got when you left Limbo Felicity had no idea, seen as though she never been able to ask anyone. Pinching her legs into life, she groaned and rubbed her eyes, blinking in the harsh daylight.

"Miss?"

"Is she alright?"

"I dunno, I think she's waking up…"

"Excuse me, coming through!"

"Oh sir, it wasn't us, she just sorta, I dunno, collapsed…"

"Mr. Sampson, sir-"

"Sir, do you know what's goin' on–"

"Not now Johnny." George knelt down besides Felicity, lifting her head up from the floor and waving for the circle as students to back up a bit. "Fliss? Felicity? Felicity, can you hear me?"

Felicity blinked up into the concerned, glasses-rimmed eyes of George and grinned as her friend came into focus. "Unfortunately," she managed, weakly, and he shot her a grin of his own.

"Good to have you back, Miss Page."

Felicity scowled. "Don't you 'Miss Page' me," she muttered, and pushed herself up onto her elbows, then into a sitting position. Immediately she winced.

"Maybe you should take it easy for a bit, yeah?" George suggested, instantly regretting it.

"No, I do not need to take it easy," Felicity glared testily, leaning on two helpful students to get herself back to her feet. "What happened?" she asked, staring muzzily round at the school courtyard.

George glanced down at the nearest student for information. The nearest victim, a small girl with gothic eyeliner, black lipstick and pigtails, gave a reluctant, half-shrug. "Dunno," she said, "You just fainted, Miss, and then there was this earthquake-thing, the ground started shaking and then…it was weird." She turned to George. "Where are we, sir?"

George loosened his tie and scratched his ear, shaking his head. "I'm… not sure. Yet."

"What does she mean, where are we?" Felicity asked, then stared properly at the field…the edges of which seemed to fade away, leaving only white.

"Oh my God," she breathed.

Next to her, George was taking charge. He raised his hands to the crowds. "Qui- QUIET! Thank you. Now I suggest that everyone goes back into the school and– aargh!"

Felicity had grabbed his collar and yanked him away from the masses. "Look, George, listen, you're not going to believe me about this but I–"

George tugged his shirt free from her surprisingly strong grip and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Fliss, you must've fallen in the earthquake. I think perhaps you should go back in and find Louise, get yourself checked over–"

"George, shut up!" she growled, "For once in your life listen to me! I know where we are!"

"Fliss, don't you start–" he began, indignant, but then blinked. "What?"

Felicity rubbed her aching forehead and stared seriously into his eyes. "I know where we are."

George frowned. "How could you…you fainted…you…"

"I know were we are, George!" she said for the third time, gritting her teeth. "You won't believe me, but frankly I don't care. It's one thing me seeing hallucinations without everyone else doing as well, never mind the whole blinking school–"

"Fliss?"

She looked up. "Yes?"

"Where are we?"

Felicity sucked in a breath, and looked around at the white world in which the whole school had been transported to. "Limbo," she said, at last. She turned to George. "We're in Limbo.

The Trickster's forcing me to agree."


End file.
